


Loremaster of Anorien's 2005 Birthday Presents

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2005-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hello, it's the newbie, Loremaster of Anorien. My fourteenth birthday is on May 8, and I'd love a drabble about the Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, Boromir, Faramir and other family members during a celebration. As you have probably heard by now, I'm the president and single member of the "Gondorians rock!" sqaud which is why I would love a happy drabble for the angsty, oft mischaracterized House of Hurin and various relatives, namely Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, and anyone else you can think of.<br/>Thanks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tactics - by Tanaqui

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Tactics**

Finduilas sat and fanned herself, gasping for breath, while the fiddler scraped a merry jig. She watched husband, brother and older son as they capered around the two stools. Faramir, held high in his father’s arms, was giggling. Boromir hurried around the ends of the room so he could loiter near the chairs.

The music halted. There was an undignified scramble. Imrahil, red-faced, found himself beaten to the nearest seat by his nephew.

The fiddler struck up again. As Boromir passed her once more, Finduilas caught his sleeve. “Let your father and brother win,” she murmured. “It is his birthday.”

 

.


	2. Juggling Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's the newbie, Loremaster of Anorien. My fourteenth birthday is on May 8, and I'd love a drabble about the Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, Boromir, Faramir and other family members during a celebration. As you have probably heard by now, I'm the president and single member of the "Gondorians rock!" sqaud which is why I would love a happy drabble for the angsty, oft mischaracterized House of Hurin and various relatives, namely Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, and anyone else you can think of.

Fire tosses from hand to hand.  Balls fly. Bodies curve to form hoops.

“Hands! Momma, he’s on his hands!”

Faramir bounces on his mother’s lap.  Pale face illumined by her smile, Finduilas leans close to hug him back to safety.  Boromir stands entranced by the tumbling bodies, eyes wide as he struggles not to miss a single leap or toss.

Imrahil, a sleepy and indifferent Elphir cradled against his shoulder, catches Denethor’s eye as applause ripples around the crowded hall.  

The Steward smiles.  Some of the foreign entertainers were, no doubt, spies.  The amusement they brought was worth the risk.


	3. Always a Father-By Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's the newbie, Loremaster of Anorien. My fourteenth birthday is on May 8, and I'd love a drabble about the Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, Boromir, Faramir and other family members during a celebration. As you have probably heard by now, I'm the president and single member of the "Gondorians rock!" sqaud which is why I would love a happy drabble for the angsty, oft mischaracterized House of Hurin and various relatives, namely Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, and anyone else you can think of.

**Always a Father**  
  
They were shown into the baby’s room at once. Finduilas swept Imrahil in a loving embrace and departed to see the child’s mother, leaving Denethor alone with three boys.  
  
Boromir, all warmth, rushed to the crib without wasting time.  
  
‘You were just like that when you were little, Faramir, just like that,’ he said, tugging at Elphir’s heel. ‘Not much hair, slept a lot…’ Faramir glanced up, then fixed his eyes back on the baby. ‘Boy, you’d cry!’   
  
Almost on cue, Elphir began to wail.   
  
Denethor stared, uneasily, but with practiced hands held the child.   
  
‘All three alike,’ he said.


	4. Birthday Kisses-by Raksha the Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's the newbie, Loremaster of Anorien. My fourteenth birthday is on May 8, and I'd love a drabble about the Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, Boromir, Faramir and other family members during a celebration. As you have probably heard by now, I'm the president and single member of the "Gondorians rock!" sqaud which is why I would love a happy drabble for the angsty, oft mischaracterized House of Hurin and various relatives, namely Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, and anyone else you can think of.

Birthday Kisses

 

 

It was a quiet celebration: no clowns or minstrels or crowds of happy children, just the family, what remained of it, and platters of sweets. Since my sister’s death, Denethor had known no joy, even in this, Faramir’s sixth birthday celebration. Faramir received new clothing, a practice sword, and even a leather-bound book about the Elendili, his favorite heroes. He accepted them with his mother‘s well-remembered grace, but his smile never touched his solemn grey eyes.

I brought forth the special present that I had borne from Dol Amroth. I set down the cage and opened its door to release the gift. Faramir gasped in surprise when the puppy stepped cautiously out, a tiny creature with a soft blue-gray coat.

“It’s just like Mousie!” Boromir exclaimed.

Faramir opened his hands beneath the pup’s nose and let her sniff his fingers.

“You are right, Boromir” I said. “This is Mousie’s puppy. She wanted her pup to come to live with Faramir. It is a bitch pup; Faramir, and will love you as her mother did if you are good and kind to her.”

Mousie was my sister’s adored Belfalas Greyhound. Denethor could not bear to set eyes on the bitch after Finduilas had left us. I had taken Mousie home with me, heavy with the litter Finduilas had not lived to see.

Two small sounds cheered the quiet chamber: the pup’s excited squeak in response to Faramir’s touch; and Faramir’s answering laugh. He carefully lifted the puppy in his arms, holding her against his chest. The puppy nibbled the ends of Faramir’s hair, then licked his chin.

I remembered my sister holding Mouse as a pup, giggling at her antics. Faramir had always loved his mother’s dog; and had fretted at her departure, so soon after Finduilas‘ passing. But now, Faramir and Boromir smiled.

“Oh, Uncle, thank you; she is wondrous!” Faramir said, his eyes alight with joy. My heart warmed to see the lad so cheered; but I could not accept his thanks.

“Nay Faramir; she is not my gift. Your father told me to bring her here for you.”

“Father?” Faramir looked up, utterly surprised, at his stern-faced father. “She is your gift?”

Denethor came to his son, and bent down, his shadow partially engulfing both boys. “Yes, my son. Your mother would have wanted you to have the animal. But you must care well for it, and train it, and keep it out of the Tower Hall.”

“I will! Thank you, truly, Sire!” Faramir reached up toward the tall grim figure. Denethor stepped back slightly. Then he knelt and placed his hand on Faramir’s head.

“A good birthday to you, Faramir” Denethor pronounced quietly, and withdrew to his seat. For a moment, Faramir looked wistfully after his father. But the puppy found Faramir’s fingers then, and licked them, and rolled over as the child happily rubbed her belly.

Seeing the boy revel in the puppy‘s affection, I was saddened that Denethor could still find it so hard to bestow fatherly tenderness upon his younger son. They were both bereaved. Denethor had comforted Boromir, who had held his father’s heart in his keeping since his birth. Yet Denethor was too immersed in his own sorrow to reach out to this quiet boy who was so much like him.

I looked back at Denethor. He smiled bleakly, his own eyes alight with unshed tears, as he watched Faramir. Ah. Denethor truly did love his second son. Why did he show it only through the gift of a foolish puppy who now gave Faramir the kisses his father could not spare?

 

 

 

the puppy is an Italian Greyhound, a toy greyhound that is sweet and very graceful, and does resemble an extremely pretty mouse. They come in many colors; and have been lapdogs and the companions of kings (Frederick the Great had one). I often visualize Finduilas with an Italian Greyhound, as Denethor is not a dog person but might allow a small, elegant critter that is easy to keep clean


	5. At the Midsummer Fair - by Ranger1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's the newbie, Loremaster of Anorien. My fourteenth birthday is on May 8, and I'd love a drabble about the Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, Boromir, Faramir and other family members during a celebration. As you have probably heard by now, I'm the president and single member of the "Gondorians rock!" sqaud which is why I would love a happy drabble for the angsty, oft mischaracterized House of Hurin and various relatives, namely Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, and anyone else you can think of.

At the Midsummer Fair  
  
Denethor looked for his family. Boromir suddenly bounced in front of him.   
"Father, I am sorry. I thought you saw mother wave to me." His face was painted to look like a bear.  
  
"Yes" Finduilas said as she walked up. "We found the most interesting artist." She carried a painted Faramir-cub and had a bear's muzzle on her nose.  
  
"What does Imrahil think of him?" Denethor sniffed ... and saw Imrahil with a bear painted on his cheek. Denethor thought.  
  
The next day at Council, Denethor compared his bear to the lions, wild hogs, and foxes on the other faces.  
  



	6. Untitled - by EdorasLass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's the newbie, Loremaster of Anorien. My fourteenth birthday is on May 8, and I'd love a drabble about the Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, Boromir, Faramir and other family members during a celebration. As you have probably heard by now, I'm the president and single member of the "Gondorians rock!" sqaud which is why I would love a happy drabble for the angsty, oft mischaracterized House of Hurin and various relatives, namely Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, and anyone else you can think of.

The laughter of children floated down the hallway, and Imrahil wondered if his nephews always arose so early.  
He heard Finuilas chastising them for being so noisy, and their apologetic replies, then Faramir's accusatory whisper of, "I told you you were too loud."  
A fierce, but hushed argument ensued, just down the corridor.  
Knotting a blanket round his hips, Imrahil waited for a lull in the conversation. When it came,he leapt into the hallway, roaring at the top of his lungs.  
The boys ran, shrieking with laughter, as Denethor poked his head out of his room and smiled, seeing the ferocious monster that was attacking his sons.


	7. No Reason to Celebrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's the newbie, Loremaster of Anorien. My fourteenth birthday is on May 8, and I'd love a drabble about the Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, Boromir, Faramir and other family members during a celebration. As you have probably heard by now, I'm the president and single member of the "Gondorians rock!" sqaud which is why I would love a happy drabble for the angsty, oft mischaracterized House of Hurin and various relatives, namely Boromir, Faramir, Denethor, Finduilas, Imrahil, and anyone else you can think of.

The day had been especially warm, even for the middle days of June. As dusk fell and bright stars appeared in the darkening sky, the heat of the sun could still be felt emanating in warm waves from broken stone walls and crumbled masonry – all that remained of the once great city of Osgiliath. From his vantage point atop an elevated terrace of tumbled flagstone nigh the great stone bridge spanning the Anduin River, Boromir gazed out across the water to the eastern shore, veiled in silent shadow. The enemy was there, lurking in the darkness. Any day now, they would come – a horde of Orcs awaiting only the signal from their Master to attempt passage of the bridge. If that passage was won, then Sauron would gain for his armies a straight path into the heart of Gondor. That must be prevented at all costs. "Only a matter of days now until _loëndë_ , the Middle-day," sighed Boromir ruefully. "It should be a time of festival and merry-making! Yet here I am, awaiting certain battle – if word received by my father of the Dark Lord's movements is accurate..." Boromir scowled. 'Twas a fine way to spend one's birthday!


End file.
